Make Love, Not War
by Recidivism
Summary: Meet Ai. Your regular nineteen year old female-turned-male body hijacker with questionable sanity and a distinct lack of self preservation, professional pervert, slightly sociopathic and full-time ninja with spectacular cognitive dissonance issues. Oh, and not to mention, a pirate. Semi Self-Insert. Not to be taken that seriously. GEN.
1. I LIVE AGAIN!

**CHAPTER 1: I LIVE AGAIN**

Rating: T

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Oda Eiichiro.

Warnings: Slight crack, Swearing, Semi Self-insert, Gender Bender, Slight abuse of the fourth wall, Identity Issues.

A/N: Yes, it's one of those. A dreaded self-insert.

Enjoy.

Or try to enjoy it.

On a side note, for those of you who read my other fanfics that I left to rot in a corner, fear not, for I will be continuing those stories. Or at least I will try to. This fanfic will be my main focus.

* * *

 _Eram quod es, eris quod sum - I was what you were, you will be what I am._

Okay, so to cut a long story short, I died.

Moving on- Wait, you actually wanted to hear all the useless, irrelevant details of my horribly mundane life? Now you don't?

...I'll put it right down here just to spite you.

My death wasn't anything significant. Neither was it tragic. It was one of those typical vehicle collisions that frequently appeared on the news but you never really gave a shit about. Merely acknowledging their existence before moving on with my life was what I had done a thousand times before, and what I would have continued doing had I survived it.

My life wasn't anything special either. I considered myself to be just a book smart nineteen year old chick with an amazing sense of humor and wit, studying to secure myself a future I had no clue why I was studying for. I did not have any dreams or lofty goals. My grades were consistently in the top five percentile of my school and my social life was not exactly booming, neither was it withering pathetically. I supposed my popularity (or lack there of) was partially due to my reputation of acting a little unhinged at times which scared most people off. It couldn't be helped. Some people were just unable to handle my magnificence and sheer presence.

I used to live with my father in a big, gloomy house that looked like something out of a B-rated horror flick. We had a mutual agreement not to speak to each other unless absolutely necessary, and we still do, only now it's much easier considering that I have moved far, far away from that hell hole, and into my grandparent's still considerably big but reasonably sized house. He was a shit father anyway. Most of my childhood was spent wandering the dark echoing corridors, inspecting the dust that coagulated at every corner and hanging out around the cliffs near the mansion.

Anyway, the dull monotony of life changed for the better when I discovered manga. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I became an avid reader of One Piece. I didn't fall in love with it like most other fans did, but there was something strangely addictive about reading it. There was something about the manga that just made me want to lose myself within it and never surface again, but reality was - and will always be - a bitch. Time went by, and as I progressed through the story, I finally recognized the feelings that was burning within me.

It was envy. I was envious, no, jealous of the characters. One Piece was a remarkably unrealistic story with nigh impossible dreams, and I was fucking jealous of characters that were not even real.

Wonderful.

There was a tiny part of me that I tried to ruthlessly suppress but failed, a corner of my heart that longed for what they had that I did not.

Every single one of Luffy's crewmates - including him- had freedom to dream, and a dream to chase after fruitlessly. Foolish ones. And they shared their dreams together. They had a reason to live. A reason to continue on this crazy adventure. And I wanted one too.

There just never seemed to be anything for me to live for. I had no dreams, no aspirations, nothing. The closest I ever got to having one was when I read Naruto and Nabari No ou, decided that ninjas were cool, and told my friends and grandparents that I wanted to be a ninja just to fuck with their minds. Their reactions were pretty bland, but when I kept on pressing on about it, buying ninja merchandise and even signing up for martial art classes, they started getting worried. Two of my friends, on the other hand, thoroughly supported my 'dream', but that wasn't saying much as one of them was a samurai otaku freak and the other wanted to make a serum capable of transforming him into the next Captain America or the hulk.

...You could say that my dream was to rid myself of society's constraints, be free to do whatever the hell I want and find a dream worth living for.

By then, I had already cemented my reputation as an eccentric but still kinda cool chick(I think?). I had a group of quirky friends, and was never really alone. Yet, I felt empty and disconnected from reality. It did occur to me that if I didn't have anything to live for, why not just end this farce early and permanently? I never followed through with that line of thought, too obsessed with One Piece to let go.

Well, my obsession did keep me alive for a good two years.

And then I died.

It was a quick and unfortunately excruciating death. The sun was setting, and the streets were getting darker. I was dressed in all black like a true ninja, compelling me to lurk within the shadows, hopefully unseen and unnoticed. I did almost give a passing grandma an aneurysm, so kudos to me.

The road happened to devoid of any moving vehicles, and I was fucking done with life. So I strode across the road with a death wish, morbidly chuckling over the irony of having a truck hit me and ending everything at once.

The truck hit me.

...Yeah. That basically happened. Talk about irony.

The thing about getting hit by a fucking truck, is that it hurts like a bitch. The dying part comes later, and it hurts much worse than getting hit by a truck. The experience is nigh impossible to describe, far beyond mortal comprehension. My thought process was even less comprehensive. A general description of what exactly ran through my mind at that point of time would be something like this: **_PAiNpaIN Truck? MY ONE PIECE COLLECTION FuCK-$#!? #$?* Bleeding? I'm bleedi- Menstruating? Wait, wha-_**

The second to last thought on my mind was that I hadn't found a dream to live for yet. That made me slightly depressed for about a millisecond, until I realized that I was unlikely to survive this experience so it didn't matter anymore, which was both great and somehow even more depressing.

My last thought was just me regretting my decision to forgo that last One Piece chapter of the arc I bookmarked around an hour ago and dying before my dad kicked the bucket, so I couldn't arrange for _I'm Going to Live Forever_ by _Fama_ or A _nother One Bites the Dust_ to play at his funeral. Priorities, right?

Then I blacked out.

The next thing I knew, I was floating around in some cesspit of emptiness and darkness. One moment I was sprawled out on the ground in a no doubt undignified position, feeling crippling pain and bleeding to death, and the next moment I was here.

I was no idiot. Despite my suicidal tendencies and reckless behavior that suggested otherwise, I was actually reputed amongst my peers for being pretty smart and a generally reliable tutor, at least when I wasn't fucking around. I had a brain, I just choose to use it selectively. That collision with that vapid truck? It came towards me at full speed. I knew I didn't survive it. There was no need for denial or any of that bullshit. I was dead.

...Where was my white light?

I drifted around aimlessly for what felt like an eternity to me, bored out of my fucking mind. If you thought living was monotonous, then death would probably be murder on your dead spirit. Death made calculus seem thrilling in comparison. Hell, calculus was probably much more thrilling then this. There was nothing to do but hang around waiting for something mentally stimulating to occur. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be happening anytime soon.

What calculus class taught me though, was how to be very, _very_ patient.

And so I waited.

My patience paid off eventually. A tiny crack appeared in the darkness, and a small sliver of light shone through. I drifted closer, scrutinizing the fracture with mild interest. The crack widened invitingly, forming a hole large enough for me to peek through. I didn't peek though it. I jabbed my middle and index finger at the tiny breach until it gave into my unspoken demands and broke apart into a slightly larger hole, which I then proceeded to punch at repeatedly. I knew that the risk of me losing a finger or my entire hand was probably really high, but I was dead. Why should I care?

Eventually, my entire fist slammed through the crack. I retracted it with slight difficulty, admiring my work with misplaced pride.

A second later, the crack spontaneously extended a good 10 metres. I barely had any time to think 'Oh shit' before the world spilt into two, replacing the comforting darkness with piercing light.

 _...This wasn't the kind of white light I asked for._

* * *

Ai was tired.

He was tired of travelling, tired of searching, tired of wanting revenge, but he couldn't stop, not when the burning need for vengeance was all he had left fueling his will to move foward, to live. He wanted to end it all, but he was so close to achieving his goal; it would be a waste if he were to stop now.

A trickle of blood dripped down the side of his face. He barely gave it any attention, absentmindedly wiping it away, far too focused on identifying the bodies that strewed the grass around him. Some were merely unconscious, some were dead. One of them was the man he had dedicated his whole existence to hunting down and killing: Joplin, Captain of the Sunfly Pirates. He just didn't know which one of them was the captain himself.

Now, all he had to do was to find that piece of shit and erase him from the face of this world permanently. Accomplishing this was harder than the thought it would be - Joplin preferred to dress like the rest of his crew without standing out, which made locating him significantly trying.

This issue was quickly solved with Joplin surging up when his back was turned, sword ready to stab down. Unluckily for him, Ai's reflexes were much, much faster, and the shadow his hulking figure casted gave him away. As the sword came swinging down, Ai smoothly dodged to the right, drawing his daggers and slicing though the tendons in Joplin's right arm with one swift movement, following up with a sandal to his face. Joplin went down hard.

Every shout, every yell of pain he illicited brought Ai grim satisfaction. But nothing in that he could ever do was enough for Joplin to truly pay for what he did. Ai stepped onto his body, balancing on his torso, making sure to grind down hard, and crouched down to gaze into the face of the man he hated most with cold, amber eyes.

Joplin snarled back.

If he had been the same person he was a few years ago, he would have erupted with cold rage and tortured the man where he lay, letting him die a slow, painful death. Now, the call for retribution within him was still there, but dulled and weakened. After more than ten years of hatred and uncontrollable fury, his emotions were all burned out, leaving behind a hollow shell running on fumes and on the verge of collapsing.

At the sight of Joplin desperately reaching for his weapon a good few feet away, Ai did not hesitate to throw down a couple of knifes, nailing his arm into the earth. His screaming barely fazed him.

"You killed my mother," Ai told him dispassionately. "And then you burned my village to the ground."

Joplin kept on screaming. Ai sighed and lined his dagger up with his throat. The screaming cut off with a whimper.

 _"This is your penance."_

The dagger moved abruptly and blood sprayed the air. Joplin died silently and quickly. His body continued twitching for nearly a minute or so, before finally going slack.

Ai stepped off Joplin's body with a slight stumble. He felt lighter, as though a huge burden had been lifted off his back. Maybe it was just the blood loss talking.

Regardless, he'd finally achieved his life long goal, finally avenged the death of his village.

The sense of accomplishment he felt left as quickly as it came. He stared down at his bloodstained fingers, feeling lost. What was he going to do now that had done what he swore to do? There was nothing left for him. His mother was dead, his father absent and most likely to remain that way, and his home destroyed by the man he just killed. His reason to continue living was gone.

...Revenge was bittersweet.

He staggered towards the closest tree and leaned on it for support. Slowly, he slid downwards until he found himself sitting down with his back against the truck. Tears began their descend, but he refused to acknowledge them.

He was just _so_ tired.

Slowly, his eyes began to slide close. His wounds hurt, and he was certain that he had a minor concussion, but exhaustion weighed his bones down and numbed his mind. He wanted to sleep and never wake up.

He never did.

Instead, a girl who thought herself dead and had no business being alive opened her eyes.

* * *

When I woke up, it was pouring. Literally.

I didn't mind the rain. In my humble opinion, it was a major improvement from the needlessly bright rays of the sun. But right now? I was soaked to the bone, shivering from the cold, and pissed off at the world. The pounding headache I was sporting only made things worse.

A sharp pain shot through my brain. Visions of a woman I somehow knew and recognized as my mother assaulted my head. They flashed past one another at a speed too fast for me to truly process, rapidly accelerating before coming to an abrupt halt, fading away slowly. I knew that there was no way in hell she could be my mother - the woman in question bit the dust two days after giving life to me- but I didn't give two shit about who she was; she could be my aunt from the Bahamas or a long lost sibling who lived in the middle east for most of her life for all I cared, and it still wouldn't matter much to me. The burning question here was this: How the hell am I still alive and kicking?

I stood up shakily, ignoring how that simple movement made my head spin. My wounds stung and hurt like a bitch, but I forced myself to stand. Breathing was hard, so I pulled down my face mask and took a deep breath.

Hang on.

Since when did I go around wearing a mask? And why the hell was I surrounded by trees? I took a cursory glance around. There wasn't much to see besides fog, trees, rain, and more trees. Where was the darkness? Oh well. At least this place had more than just endless murk.

The fog parted to display a dead body. Followed by a second. And a third. Corpses slowly revealed themselves, littering the clearing I was in. And right in the middle of their broken carcasses, lay the man that I... recalled loathing and apparently killing. Joplin.

 _-sliced through his throat, watching as his body twitched and shuddered and convulsed-_

I was calm. I knew this bodies.

 _-nothing left but charred skeletons and wood and cinders in a ghost town that was crumbling at the seams, they burned it all down, **THEY BURNED** -_

I knew-

 _-Your mother hung feebly in their grasp, bruised and battered, but her smile still managed to be brighter than the sun. "Don't worry about me, Ai," she told you. "I'll be fine-_

I knew nothing.

 _-kill them all for what they did, you swear that you would kill-_

That's right. I didn't know these people. Yet I did. No, that wasn't right. I never saw these people in my life before. I killed them for- no, I didn't kill them.

My hands shook.

I staggered forward, swaying back and forth on unsteady legs in a valiant effort to avoid both the puddles of blood and rain water. I failed miserably. My depth perception was off. I had wounds I didn't know existed until now. My body felt both weaker yet stronger than what I was accustomed to, and my movements were awkward, like I had just woken up from a really long nap or in the wrong body. I was having visions, or rather, remembering things I never seen or heard or done before.

I was supposed to be dead. The dead don't breathe, don't feel pain, nor do they come back to life.

Well, at least that was what common sense told me. Supernatural spoke a different story.

A rustling bush caught my attention, and I instinctively threw a trio of shurikens _-left leg, second pouch-_ towards the intruder, swiftly drawing my daggers _-sheathed behind your back-_ and standing in a solid stance. A squirrel let out an unholy squeal and dropped dead.

What the crap?

...How the hell did I do that? Not that that wasn't cool, but how?

 _-you dashed through the masses, a whirlwind of death and steel, your daggers coated with a fresh layer of blood every moment you moved, aiming not to incapacitate but kill-_

I snapped back to reality, breathing hard. I was pretty sure I had never killed anyone before in my entire life. Sure, I occasionally suffer from bouts of homicidal urges to maim something or someone, but I didn't actually had enough motivation to do it and bear the troublesome consequences.

I probably should be breaking down or something at having murdered people. Then again, some shit from my middle school class had accused me of sociopathy before. I do not know if that accusation holds any weight, nor do I care to find out. But I probably wasn't one.

Probably.

Meh.

In any case, something was terribly wrong.

First, lets establish a few facts.

Fact number one, I was alive. Well, I felt pretty damned alive to me. Let me just pinch myself to confirm that I am indeed alive and not some walking husk or intangible ghost- ow.

Second, I was stranded in a random forest with a bunch of corpses that I recalled murdering violently out of revenge. They allegedly burned down a village I was from or some shit. Great.

As that thought crossed my mind, a violent rage besieged my body and my hand clenched involuntarily around the hilt of the daggers to painful proportions.

Third, I had vague, fragmented memories of being a seriously depressed, vengeance-seeking teen named Ai that I was pretty sure did not belong to me, as well badass ninja skills programmed into my brain and body, which was a plus. His problems made mine seem like sunshine and butterflies in comparison.

Fourth, the area between my legs had been feeling a little strange ever since I woke, and my chest also seemed to have shrunk. The last time I measured my height, I wasn't this tall either. Now, I wasn't particularly attached to my feminity, nor would I object to having my gender spontaneously switched. Sure, it was bizarre, illogical and highly unlikely to happen, but I just died and landed in some form of twisted paradise or hell with mysterious bullshit memories that I had to pay with terrible migraines to process and confused the living hell out of me; I was willing to believe anything now.

I gave my body a cursory glance over. It wore a long-sleeved black muscle shirt, a pair of unconstricting black jeans held up by multiple belts and a sash, straw sandals and a white scarf that just did not seem sensible to wear when you pranced around in the dark doing ninja like things for a living. My upper torso seemed to be wrapped in bandages, all the way down to my right hand. I also did not recall changing into or having this particular set of clothing, but crazier things have happened to me before; read: rise from the dead. I gazed at my boobs- or rather, where my boobs used to be- and cautiously felt around for something.

Yep, completely flat. And quite solid.

I paused to allow my brain some time to process this revelation. Then I reached down and unzipped my pants out in broad daylight. Or out in the rain. Whatever. It wasn't like there was anyone alive or around to see me do such a thing anyway, and I had to confirm my suspicions.

Ah. There _it_ was.

I maintained my composure and zipped up my pants with amazingly still fingers.

Cue five minutes of panicking and nervous laughter.

 **MOVING ON**

Close-to-being-one-but-not-really-a-fact-yet point number five, I may have risen from the dead into the wrong body. Time to see if I really did.

The heavy torrent had stopped by now, and the mist had mostly cleared. Most of the blood had either been washed away by the rain or had sunk into the earth. Corpses still desecrated the sanity of what used to be a peaceful glade, and Joplin, the man that I supposedly despised utterly, was splayed out right in the centre of the corpse party, like that one turkey always placed in the middle of the table during Thanksgiving. My wounds still hurt like a son of a bitch, but at least it wasn't leaking vital lifeblood anymore. I casually approached a random puddle of water on the ground, gazing at my reflection.

A really hot asian looking stranger with black hair and amber irises stared back, pale skin marred by bruises around his eyes that spoke of many sleepless nights. I prodded at the stranger's cheek, watching as my reflection copied the movement.

The face in the puddle wasn't even remotely close to looking like mine. I ruthlessly squashed the urge to break down and laugh hysterically at the impossibility of this situation. Looking at my reflection- not mine, I told myself, his reflection- made me highly uncomfortable.

Well, at least the body my soul hijacked was pretty sexy looking and really high-spec, and not one of those ugly douchebags lying on the floor. He even had a mask to cover his face; I originally assumed it to be for hiding his identity and for adding a mysterious effect, but he probably wore it to ward all the chicks away.

I pulled up the mask and cleared his -my- throat. "Yo." I told the reflection, startling a little at the unexpected sound of his voice. It's pitch was much lower than mine, and far more smoother- my voice always had that rasp to it that allowed my to sing heavy metal songs very convincingly, but made me pants at emotional ballads. I cleared his body's throat a second time, acutely aware of the wrongness twice-fold as I spoke. I wasn't supposed to sound like that. "Your name is Ai, right? Thanks for your body... Well, I assume it's mine now. I'll do my best to take good care of it." I finished a little lamely.

I did feel a little guilty about hijacking Ai's body, but that guilt was quickly suppressed in the face of the last and final fact I was desperately trying not to acknowledge. Because no matter how I looked at it, the very idea of it was insane. Ai had to be a One Piece fan. Why else would he have such extensive knowledge on pirates, sea kings and what not? There was just no way.

One Piece was merely a fictional world with fictional characters. Luffy was simply a product of Oda's genius creativity.

I couldn't have somehow jumped ship and traveled through space and time, miraculously exiting into another dimension that by all means shouldn't exist...

Right?

...Damn it, I was in One Piece, wasn't I?

I wobbled towards a random tree, collapsing at the base gracelessly. I was still struggling to come to terms with my apparent resurrection into the wrong body and the wrong universe. Furthermore, my brain was being particularly uncooperative today and wasn't computing. Trying to explain it all with logic wasn't working, and just made things harder to accept, thus I gave up and blamed it all on mysterious forces of bullshit. Attempting to comprehend what the hell happened was doing nothing but intensifying my already gargantuan headache.

Whatever. Forget rationalizing. I was in One Piece. The Strawhats existed. The sun was shining, the seagulls were squawking, and there was a bunch of dead bodies surrounding me. I had a new life that I had no right to have, a new universe that was practically a paradise of danger and insanity, and a lovely bunch of fragmented memories to pick apart. Marvellous.

I flexed my fingers, observing numbly as the dried blood that caked my skin cracked. I felt... lost. Not much had changed from before. I still didn't know know where I was supposed to move from here. There was a path before me covered in shadows and smoke, and I walked upon it, unable to see where I was going-

 _-stared down at your bloodstained fingers, feeling empty, feeling lost. With your life purpose completed, you had nothing left to live for. What were you going to do now?-_

I winced. Now wasn't the time for flashbacks.

 _-pain was unbearable. It wasn't the physical kind of pain, but the sort that hurt you deep inside. It made your eyes stung and your limbs tremble. You curled up into yourself, blocking out-_

Ai's emotions hit me like a sledgehammer, intermingling with my own. I was him, he was me, and we knew each other intimately, shared the same thought, and felt the same emotions. I experienced it all, his pain, sorrow and exhaustion. He threw everything away in search of retribution, and he got what he wanted, but at what cost? Now, without a goal to guide him, he literally lost all will to live. In the end, after everything was over, all that was left behind from the ashes and cinders was just a man who had given up on life.

His mind and soul _bled into mine. Melancholy and longing surged though before_ disappearing just as rapidly as it came, leaving behind a horrible sense of loneliness. There was _something within that spluttered weakly and died out. A wave of loss and hopelessness swept over you, and_ I wondered just what it was that I was missing. It took me a while to _recognize it for what it was; your will to live-_ _**What?**_

My eyes flew open and I sat up, panting softly. I could have sworn that I was Ai for a moment there- no, I wasn't him. I am who i am, but who was I? Focus! I fumbled around for a sharp object, my hand closing around what felt like a metal object- a kunai? Bracing myself, I dug it into my thigh.

A sharp burn shot up my left leg. The wound hurt like hell, but the pain helped me to clear the fog in my mind, allowing me to retain some form of clarity and grasp over the tattered remains of my sanity. Inner peace. Zen. I was in control.

I took in a deep breath. Then I let it out.

This body evidently came with shattered pieces of Ai's personality, which results in some rather spectacular cognitive dissonance issues. I can barely begin to predict just how much trouble it would cause me in the near future.

Or perhaps, Ai was still alive, lurking in the back of our minds, waiting for the right moment to pop out and retake his body. A chill ran down my spine.

...Well, I'll deal with it if it ever happens. I am reasonably sure that we can come to an agreement that either involves us taking turns at his body or sharing it. And that just sounded really wrong.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Just thinking about it pains me.

Speaking of pain, my left thigh was really starting to bother me. I looked down at the injury, watching copious amount of blood ooze out. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have stabbed the kunai in that deep, or choosen to stab myself at all.

I sorted through Ai's memories for where he kept his emergency bandages, but came up with a blank. Apparently he had the forethought to carry with him an excessive amount of weaponry just in case he stumbles upon any inconveniences, but no presence of mind to equip himself with any form of emergency first aid. Go figure.

With no bandages and a bleeding leg, I turned to alternative options, and liberated a tasteful orange sash from an unfortunate corpse to wrap around the wound.

Alright. Now that I wasn't in danger of bleeding to death and putting a quick, pathetic end to my newly attained life, it was time to decide what I wanted to do next.

My answer was simple. Get the hell off this shitty island. I can decide where to go from there.

I paused and glanced around at the dead or dying bodies around me. Joplin's assortment of shiny rings sparkled temptingly.

...After I loot their cold, dead corpses.

* * *

An hour or so later, I was on Ai's boat, watching as the island slowly disappeared into the horizon, eclipsing the setting sun.

Goodbye forever, Joplin. I hope your ugly mug rots in hell. If hell even exists in this universe. Or whatever constitutes as the equivalent of hell here.

Now what? I idly dipped a blood covered finger into the water, watching the water stain red. Then I recalled just what kind of terrifying abominations inhabited the waters of One Piece, and hastily withdrew my finger in fear of my blood luring such creatures to the surface.

I had no idea where I was going. Ai's memories helpfully informed me that I was currently in East Blue, the weakest of all the Blue Seas, and not somewhere in the New World, which was a relief to know, as it significantly increases my chances of survival. I didn't want to die that early, not until I had enough fun messing around in this world.

So, where to next? I sifted through Ai's mental map of East Blue, looking for an island with some form of civilization. His geography was remarkably dismal for someone who had spent half his life chasing his sworn nemesis all the way from West Blue to the East. Surely his navigation skills had to be exceptional, right?

I was wrong. It would appear that the reason why he managed to even trail Joplin and his merry band of halfwits around the oceans was due to a combination of following rumours, his unhealthy obsession, and luck. He hadn't bothered to learn much more than the bare minimum of navigation, just enough for him to keep at his mad hunt for vengeance.

Unbelievable.

I gave up and flopped down on the boat, sulking at the darkening skies. My stomach growled.

Well, I couldn't possibly ignore such an earnest call for my attention. I grudgingly sat up, taking stock of everything Ai had on his boat. There was a compass which he barely used, a well-read book on anatomy, a cluster of pointy things, the sack of riches I pilfered from Joplin and his pals, and a bunch of miscellaneous stuff. I even found a few bottles of sunscreen, which was understandable considering how pale Ai's skin was. And... Bingo! A sack of fruits. I wiped my hands on a spare cloth lying around, picked out a plum and bit into it, before resuming my investigation of Ai's inventory with my free hand.

A book on dismemberment, a photo of his mother, another bottle of sunscreen... oh hey! A secret compartment! Maybe he kept his super secret emo diary in there. I fumbled for the latch, pulling it open with enthusiasm. And promptly deflated. There were just a few sets of clothing similar to the one I wore and another half-face mask. I was about to move on with my investigations, but I paused, realising that I probably required a change of clothing, and replacement of the orange sash around my thigh that was starting to look more red than orange.

I quickly finished my plum and stripped, admiring his body as I did. Oh wait, it was technically my body now, huh? Does that make me narcissistic? A quick wipe down of the blood and gunk that stuck to his body like a second skin and a fresh change of clothes later, I felt much more comfortable than before. I strapped on the pouches that contained lethal amounts of weaponry. The stab wound I left alone; it didn't seem to be bleeding anymore.

Time for more food. I reached for another fruit and got a banana this time. And I hated bananas. I sighed.

On the bright side, it wasn't sunny anymore.

I didn't know when, but at one point through the night, I succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep. I woke up still feeling like crap. My entire body ached in places I didn't know could hurt, my stomach was missing much needed sustanance and my wounds itched.

I opened my eyes, and immediately regretted doing so.

The sun shone down with incessantly bright rays of light, piercing through my very being. I hissed and covered my burning eyes with my arm.

Where the fuck was I- Oh, right. One Piece. Fuck.

I let out a sigh. Just what has my life become?

After much needless dawdling and bemoaning, I sat up, trying to see anything beyond the glaring light that pervaded my vision. Maybe if I commanded the sun to disappear, it would. I'd just been dumped into One Piece, you never knew what else could happen, like me gaining mythical abilities to bring back the night.

"Begone, foul fireball of light! I command you to remove yourself before my sight! Let there be darkness!" I shouted, pointing a finger at the sky.

A seagull screeched in the distance. Waves pulsed back and forth, breaking against the side of my pathetic boat. I maintained my pose for a few mortifying seconds, then retrieved my hand, glad for my lack of witness.

Oh well. Didn't think that would work anyway.

Oh wait, there was a bird! I briefly recalled something about how birds meant land was nearby or some rubbish like that. To follow it or not follow? I gazed vacantly at the seagull that was gradually drawing further and further away.

Meh. I shrugged, grabbed my oars and began rowing in it's general direction. What was the worst that could happen?

Drifting about on sea tends to screw up your perception of time when you've lived on land for ninety-nine point nine percent of your life. Not even Ai's memories could do anything to help with with that issue. To make matters worse, the only way for me to have any sort of grasp over the time was to look at the position of the sun in the sky. And looking at the sun hurt.

I wasn't kidding, it hurt both physically and mentally. Firstly, my eyes were in terrible pain, and teared up every second I glanced up. My skin would no doubt be sun burnt as well if I didn't have the foresight to apply sunscreen the night before. Secondly, a headache had been steadily making itself known ever since I woke up, fueled by the heat of the sun. Being dressed in a black, long sleeved shirt intensified the warmth several fold.

Anyway, back to the main point. By looking at the sun's position in the sky, I could roughly gauge how long I had been rowing for, which was around two to three hours. My arms felt weak and wobbly, and my clothes were soaked with sweat. I was this close to taking a dip into the ocean to cool my poor overheated body down regardless of what creatures may be lurking in the depths of the dark sea. But I wasn't going to do it, because I had actually had a sense of self-preservation, unlike Ai.

Self-preservation. Right.

Heh. Heh heh.

I giggled to myself, delirious and light-headed from the heat. _What self-preservation?_ I leaned against the side of the boat for support as my chuckles devolved into laughter.

Five seconds later, I tilted right over into the ocean.

When I resurfaced, I was much more lucid then before. Getting dunked into cold water was a very effective, if not rude, wake up call. I paddled over to the boat, hauling myself back in, wincing at the stinging sensation on my injured thigh.

Back to propelling this boat forward.

Thankfully, I didn't have to row for long. Minutes later, an island slowly faded into view far off in the distance. There even appeared to be small structures on it that I presumed to be buildings, which meant civilization. I pinched myself to confirm that I wasn't hallucinating. The island didn't shimmer out of existence.

Excellent.

It took me a few moments to gauge the distance between land and where I was. Then I began rowing furiously.

Of course, of all places I could have ended up at, it had to be a town with a large ass marine base. I blatantly stared at the giant monolithic structure that practically protruded above all the other buildings, right from where I was about to dock my boat. The guy who designed that thing needed to be fired. Effective immediately. It was abominable, an insult to mankind's creativity.

I moored my boat, still not sure what the heck I was going to do here. Continue dissing the marine base? Explore? Sure, lets go with that. It was a good place as any to start from. Grabbing a few handful of coins and stuffing them into my pockets, I got up and entered the town.

The town was pretty busy at this hour. People milled about, each busy with whatever it was they usually got up to. I casually strolled through the streets like nobody's business, staring at everything with fascination. My appearance drew attention from those passing by, judging from how they gawked at me. It wasn't everyday you saw a masked wannabe dressed in black walking around in broad daylight after all.

Ever since I entered, there had been a nagging feeling at the back of my head that vexed me greatly. I didn't know what it was, but there was something about this town that was intensely familiar, which was ridiculous; I had never been here before until today.

"Pardon," I stopped a random lady in her tracks. "Mind telling me the name of this place?"

She stared at me like I was an extraterrestrial creature, which I probably was. There was no way I was gonna tell anyone that though. "It's Shell Town."

Shell Town? The name set off alarm bells in my head. It grated on my nerves, so I ruthlessly squashed the sound.

"Thanks." I told the lady, who threw me a strange look and hurried off. Huh. Weird lady.

Oh, look. A restaurant. Great timing. I was getting tired of fruits. I ambled in.

The instance I stepped past the threshold, I was greeted by a young girl running face first into my legs, reminding me of the existence of my thigh injury which I had placed great effort into forgetting. I barely restrained a gasp. The girl stumbled but my reflexes kicked in and I managed to catch the girl just before she fell. After all, I was a nice person who loved children. Really.

"Kid," I muttered with a mildly strangled voice. Seriously, why was the world so intent on causing me pain? First my gruesome death, Ai's pre-injured body, my self-inflicted thigh stab, the abhorrent sun, and now this. Oh, right. Because life was a bitch. "Watch where you are going next time,"

The girl gazed at me, wide eyed, before hastily bowing down. "I'm sorry, mister!" I stared. Back home in America, finding children that were as polite as her was nigh impossible. I recalled that there was this one little brat that bumped into my grandpa once without apologizing, even having the nerve to blow a raspberry. My grandpa was incensed, and spent the rest of the day yammering about demonic children and irresponsible parents.

I scratched the side of my cheek, fumbling over how to respond. Dealing with children was not my strong suit. In the end, I settled for rubbing her head awkwardly in lieu of forgiveness. "...It's fine."

She beamed at me and bounced out the doorway. I surveyed her retreating figure. Something about her was familiar. Actually, this whole damn town was familiar, but the girl exceptionally so. Should I stalk- ahem, hunt- I mean, follow her in a totally non creepy way to sate my curiosity, or should I eat?

Nah, food can wait.

And so, relying on Ai's awesome ninja skills and reflexes, I took to the rooftops. You would think that a dude wearing black clothing and a white scarf hopping around the rooftops in the middle of the afternoon would be be attention grabbing, but no one ever looks up. Sure, there was the occasional person who, for whatever reason, found the need to gaze up into the starry blue sky where the vapid sun hung, catching sight of me in the process, but they would blink once or twice in disbelief, giving me the opportunity to get the hell away, hopefully mystifying them to believe that I was merely a figment of their imagination. Anime mechanics and all that.

Moving around in Ai's body was strange. Being slightly larger and much taller than I previously was, it was mildly disconcerting to suddenly view things from a different perspective. I had a feeling that the reason why I wasn't over reaching and tripping over my feet all the time was thanks to the scattered but many memories I had of being Ai, which allowed me to acclimate to his body. Thank Oda for small mercies.

I scanned the whole town for any sign of the girl, but found none. She was probably too short for me to spot her amongst the crowd. What I did see, however, made me halt in my tracks completely.

A man sporting a head of unbelievably green hair ambled down the street, radiating an aura of badassery and utter manliness. Tucked safety away in his sash were three swords. He walked through the crowd much like how Moses parted the red sea; everyone literally scrambled to get the fuck out of his way.

My heart skipped a beat.

It couldn't possibly be... What the hell was he doing here in this backwater town? Shouldn't he be with Luffy kicking major ass all around the Grandline and making a general nuisance of himself?

Wait... Shell Town... That girl... The hideous marine base...

I slapped a hand to my face.

Of course. All the clues were there. How did it even escape me?

What were the chances of me ending up here of all places right before canon started? Microscopically low. Yet, here I was. And the living, breathing proof of that was right before me. Well, a couple metres right below me.

It was him. _Roronoa Zoro._

 **CUE DRAMATIC MUSIC**

* * *

 **OMAKE**

A man sporting a head of unbelievably green hair ambled down the street, radiating an aura of badassery and utter manliness. Tucked safety away in his sash were three swords. He walked through the crowd much like how Moses parted the red sea; everyone literally scrambled to get the fuck out of his way.

My heart skipped a beat. I swooned.

Is... Is this what they call... _LOVE_?

* * *

A/N: Posting schedule won't be regular. Why?

BECUZ IT WAS NEVER REGULAR IN THE FIRST PLACE! _DAHAHAHAHA_

Also, in case any of you were wondering what relevance the title has to the story, Ai's name actually means love in Japanese. (It's actually a girl's name but meh) Other than that, there is absolutely no other connection. I just thought it sounded cool.


	2. LATE NIGHT CLANDESTINE MEETINGS

**CHAPTER 2: LATE NIGHT CLANDESTINE MEETINGS**

Or

 **How To Not Be A Ninja 101**

Warnings: Crack. Mental issues.

A/N: IT'S FINALLY POSTED WAHAHAHA

* * *

Zoro was here. In Shell Town.

I crouched on the roof, lying low, gears in my head creaking as they tried to process this information. The sun beat down on me, unrelenting in it's quest to fry me alive, but I refused to back down to the likes of it. My eyes were glued onto Zoro's musculature- I mean, Zoro's form in general, tracking his every movement, partly because he had a very nice and firm body, but mainly due to the fear that if I take my eyes off him for just one second, he would have mysteriously wandered off into the distance via incomprehensible marimo superpowers.

As I admired Zoro's finely toned abs, I was hit with a startling realization.

Zoro was right here, in Shell Town. That meant that the Strawhats did not exist yet. Luffy was probably wreaking havoc of Alvida's ship or perhaps on his way here. My eyes widened.

I didn't have a goal in life back then, and I still didn't have one now. I had simply existed, drifting along with the metaphorical winds, not going anywhere or doing anything with my life. But now, at the end of the tunnel that I walked, I saw a light. I was in One Piece. It would be a damn waste if I didn't enjoy myself to the fullest. I already died a meaningless death once, this time, I was going to die happy, goal or no goal.

And the best way to do that? Be where the fun always was. The Straw Hats.

Sure, I could live a tame life out here in the blue seas, or I could join the marines and uphold their bullshit justice and integrity, but that would be boring. I would probably be fired after two days of joining. And I was never a stickler for rules anyway; I preferred to bend them to their limits. Besides the Straw Hats, there were many other crews I could choose from. Whitebeard was a good selection. But bearing in mind how most other pirate crews were mainly comprised of useless riff-raff and scumbags, and Whitebeard and the other pirate crews were more than a few hundred nautical miles too far for me to even consider worming my way in, the Straw Hats would appear to be my best shot at living the life I wanted to have.

Besides, I didn't just want a life of excitement. I wanted insanity and utter madness. I wanted to be where the heart, soul, and life of the story was. I wanted to be with the tide that would shake the foundations of the world with it's ferocity and will, destroying all that would dare to stand in it's path. And to get that, there was one thing I could do: Be a Straw Hat. I could see it now- my dream.

I teetered to the left as a bout of dizziness overcame me, barely managing to stabilize myself. I assume that the light-headedness I was feeling right now wasn't from happiness at discovering a motivation to live (because if it was, then I sure was pathetic) but from excessive exposure to the sun.

Time to find shelter.

As I stood up unsteadily, my injured thigh decided that now would be a great time to rebel against me. A pulse of pain caused my whole left leg to spasm. Supported by only my right leg, I staggered forward. There was a rush and displacement of air, and I pitched right off the building. A single thought was prevalent in my mind throughout this entire scenario: _Fuck_.

At this moment, Zoro's head snapped up, eyes meeting mine as I fell.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I forced an arm to move and reach out, grabbing onto the edge of the roof, barely saving myself from becoming a grease stain on the ground. After hanging precariously for a few seconds, I hauled myself up with some effort, grimacing as the movement made my head pound.

Zoro was staring at me with judging eyes. I was this close to flipping him off, but I wisely choose not to. I'll save the pleasantries for later, when we will be better acquainted and he would be less likely to skewer me with his sword if I were to insult his manhood.

I re-orientated myself, choosing to sit with my legs dangling off the roof rather than crouching, not wanting a repeat performance of what just happened. I loved prancing across rooftops as the next ninja, but right now it was just far too hot for any jumping to be done. This must be why ninjas are typically inactive in the day time- to avoid being baked alive under the infernal sun. The black suit they typically wear would have made them really feel the heat.

Oh, Zoro's still looking here. What does he want? I stared back, not wanting to be outdone. If I took the opportunity to give him an exceptionally subtle once over, well, no one was there to stop me.

Howls and barks filled the air. I would like to imagine that a silent agreement passed between Zoro and I to continue our staring contest at a later date, and we both turned around in tandem to face where the sounds were coming from.

The crowds were once again doing a great reenactment of Moses parting the red sea, though this time, Moses in question was a smarmy blond bastard with a wolf snapping at everyone who dared get close. I presumed that it was just Helmeppo and his pet, causing a ruckus around town.

Ah, Helmeppo. Though you did become less of an arse later on in the story, I never did like you.

At this moment, the girl who I had had practically roasted myself under the hot sun looking for, chose to skip into the vicinity. Conveniently into Helmeppo's line of sight. What was her name again? Reiki? Roka? She's plot relevant somehow. My memories on the first few episodes were a little fuzzy, so I couldn't quite recall just what happened that got Zoro unlawfully arrested and tied to a pole. Something about killing Helmeppo's wolf? Ah. That flashback scene... which seemed to be occurring now.

My attention was drawn back to the situation unfolding a couple feet below me. From my position all the way up here, I wasn't able to hear what was being said, but Helmeppo's smarmy smirk was all I needed to interpret that he was plotting something nefarious. I watched with narrowed eyes, fingering a shurikan thoughtfully.

My conscience screamed at me to intervene before anything nasty happened, but logic told me not to. Just one simple action - me interceding the wolf instead of Zoro - could cause great changes further down the road. Zoro might not be imprisoned. Consequently, Luffy probably wouldn't bust in to wreck shit up and recruit Zoro.

Yeah. That would be bad. I stilled my twitchy fingers and shoved the shurikan back in a pouch.

Helmeppo's pet wolf then lunged forward, snapping at the girl's heels, and she screamed, her legs giving way. I barely restrained myself from leaping down and landing on Helmeppo's face boot first.

There was a flash of steel, a glint from where the light met metal, and the wolf collapsed in a spray of blood. Zoro stood in front of the girl like a green headed sentinel, sheathing his sword slowly, ennui reflected on his face.

On the other hand, Helmeppo looked like he had just swallowed a particularly sour lemon, and wasn't sure whether to pop a nerve or start hopping around madly. Or both.

I slowly unclenched my fist. Red half moons bloomed to life on my palm. I turned away, sweeping non-existent dust off my shoulders. There was nothing noteworthy to see here besides Zoro, and if I stayed any longer, I would be liable to throwing myself at Helmeppo and punching the living daylights out of him. Following through would only end with me tied to a stake right beside Zoro, waiting for Luffy to come save our sorry asses. I'd rather be the one doing the rescuing.

...It's fine. I'll just pay a visit to Zoro, later in the night, just in case he gets lonely, and do my best to endear myself to him. Right now, it is time for me to find food.

I stumbled around, still light-headed, but found my balance and resumed prancing across the rooftops.

Where was that restaurant again...

* * *

Zoro scanned the rooftops for that scarf wearing weirdo, but he was gone, with no sign of ever being there in the first place. What the hell was he doing up there in the first place?

"-any idea who I am? I am Helmep-"

He dug a pinky into his left ear.

"-father is Captain Morgan! I'll have you executed for you crimes- LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING DAMN IT!" Zoro turned back lazily to face the speaker, choosing to push any thought of the mysterious man to the back of his head. A blond wimp scowled back at him.

"You are annoying me," Zoro groused.

* * *

Evening was drawing near. The streets were relatively empty. The sun dipped down into the horizon, done with frying this portion of the oceans for now and moving on to torment the poor souls on the other side of the world. Good riddance, in my opinion.

I gazed listlessly at the evening sunset, perched on the restaurant roof and nibbling on a slice of bread. My fingers moved on their own accord, twirling a kunai round and round. Ai seemed to have a habit of doing that, and passed it on to me. Had I attempted to do what I was doing now in my old body, I would have likely found myself missing a finger or two.

Heavy shuffling and grunting startled me out of my silent contemplation. Instinct compelled me to unsheathe my daggers and lope off the head of the unfortunate passerby. All those years of Ai's paranoia got to me; my hand had already begun drawing my weapons. I flexed my fingers against the hilt, trembling slightly.

Something was off. For a moment there, I could sense Ai within me, controlling my movements- that wasn't right, he wasn't trying to take back the reins of his body. I could barely feel his presence- his will to live had long since snuffed out, and all that was left behind was just a mere shade of himself. For an instant, we were one and the same, in spirit, body and soul, Ai's shade and I. When I closed my hand around the hilt of the dagger, _he moved with me-_

 _\- The sickle sliced though the air, spinning right towards your head. At that very moment, time seemed to slow down. You could see everything with unusual perception and clarity. The blade of the weapon neared you, moving sluggishly, it's edge glinting menacingly. Your pupils dilated, and adrenaline roared through your veins. Your heart rate sped up. Every single inch of your body screamed at you to **movemovemove** -_

I threw myself to the right, but wasn't fast enough to escape unscathed. The blade brushed over the surface of my skin, right under my left eye, leaving a thin, red cut in it's wake- huh?

There was no attacker, no sickle flying towards my face, ready to destroy my -or Ai's- exceptionally good looks. Yet, it felt too real to be a mere hallucination. I rubbed the place where the cut was supposed to be, but my hands came back dry. The non-existent injury pulsed with a phantom pain.

Oh, right. Flashback. Ai's memories. Cognitive dissonance and identity issues. Damn it all to hell. I introduced my face to my palm.

If this was going to happen often, especially in fights, then I had to either get used to it until it couldn't affect me, or find a way to assimilate Ai's memories into my own. As of now, I didn't know whether the second option would have any drawbacks. On the surface, it sounded like a pretty good idea- take in his memories and never get migraine inducing flashbacks for the rest of your life- but there were many probable consequences. It could result in larger migraines, issues with differentiating our memories, or worse, I could lose my identity entirely, forgetting who I initially was, living life under the mistaken impression that I was Ai.

The first option didn't sound that impressive either. Nevertheless, as impossible as it seemed, it struck me as the safer choice. Getting used to constant bombardment of traumatic memories? Not happening any time soon. Will it result in me being too constantly distracted to not notice a sword ready to stab my guts out? Obviously. Is it going to slowly drive me insane in the long run? Probably. Still better then getting pseudo amnesia and living the rest of my second life as a tragic and freakishly depressed dude? Definitely.

 _I was probably speculating too much on this._

Option one it is then, until I find alternative methods to deal with the problem.

I mentally congratulated myself on a job well done for having come to a temporary and rather useless solution, turning full circle back to square one, and resumed staring at the isolated streets.

My ear caught the sound of light pitter-pattering of feet. I didn't react violently like I did just a few minutes ago. Although my fingers itched for a form of defense, they remained still, so I chalked it up as a win. I scanned the area for any for disparities and spotted one.

The plot-relevant-girl was standing right in the middle of the street, a rice ball that is no doubt not safe for consumption held in her hand. I assumed that she was planning to sneak off to the marine base to feed Zoro her self-made rice balls filled with sugar and love. She openly inspected her surroundings for any watchers, but completely failed to spot me. She had all the makings of a terrible ninja.

Since I couldn't remember this happening in the anime, it either took place behind the scenes or my presence here actually affected things to such an extent. Where was her mother, and how did she even managed to sneak past her? Either way, what she was doing was dangerous and I probably should stop her. But first let me pull up my mask- I got to keep that mystery going.

"Hey kid, go home," I ordered. "It's dangerous at night," The vacant streets helped project my voice, giving it an eerie echo. The girl yelped, fumbling with the rice ball. She glanced around wildly. I chuckled creepily, thoroughly entertained by her comical reaction.

The girl finally looked up, probably guided to my location by my sinister laughter. She gaped at me for a few seconds, before scowling impudently. "I don't want to! I have to give these rice balls to big brother, so don't try to stop me!"

...Where did that polite brat disappear to? I frowned. If demanding that she leave politely (not so politely) didn't work, then I had no choice but to pull out the big guns.

"If you go, Captain Morgan will capture you and _roast you alive_ for dinner," I threatened, narrowing my eyes for effect just like how Grandma used to do to the snotty kid next door. It worked. The girl froze up and turned a few shades paler. I smirked triumphantly, but kept my voice apathetic and even. "Your big brother Zoro won't be there to save you."

Her lower lip trembled. My psychotic grin faded away.

Oh no.

Tears began to well up in her eyes.

Shit. For fuck's sake. Don't cry, please don't cry. Fortunately, the restaurant building had only two levels, allowing me to jump off without crippling my legs. I leaped down, landing without a sound, hovering around her uncertainly.

I absolutely loathed crying children. They were terrible to deal with, and their wailing never failed to give me a headache. What I hated even more were children on the verge of tears. Trying to get them to stop is like attempting to get a speeding bullet train to turn around using pure mental strength- it didn't work.

"I'll take the food to him for you," I offered impulsively. She turned her large, watery eyes on me, hope sparkling within them. My stone cold inner core melted just a little bit on the inside. As much as I disliked children, even one such as I was not immune to puppy dog eyes of that level.

I was going to regret this, wasn't I?

"Really?" She sniffed and wiped away the tears collecting at the corners of her eyes. "Thank you so much for helping me, big brother!"

Big brother?

...Right, I was a guy now.

She passed me the undoubtedly inedible rice ball with reverence, and I held it gingerly with a hand, wondering if I should just dispose of them prematurely to save Zoro's taste buds from misfortune. I still had a whole sack of fruits back in my boat that I am all too willing to share.

"Stay away from the marine base, okay?" I instructed her sternly. She nodded obediently.

"Rika? Dinner is ready- Where are you? Rika!" A woman's voice called out from the restaurant. Probably her mother.

"Good, now go home," I hesitantly reached out and gave her a few soft pats on the head. This was how one typically handled kids right? Indulge them a little and let them run back to whichever hole they crawled out from?

Regardless, my method seemed to have worked. The girl cheerily skipped back into the restaurant, leaving me to deal with the rice ball she made. I wasted no time relocating to the rooftops once again, examining the riceball for any defects. There were none that I could visibly discern.

I sniffed it tentatively, and choked on my own saliva. A bizarrely sweet stench that I was certain riceballs were not supposed to have assaulted olfactory system, confirming my suspicions.

What should I do with the riceballs? Dispose of them? Nah. The girl did put lots of effort and sincerity into making her riceballs. I would be a terrible person if I were to just trash them in a bin or chuck them into the ocean.

Feed them to Zoro?

Hell yes.

* * *

The marine base was situated near the centre of the island. It stuck out like a sore thumb, literally looming over the comparatively smaller buildings; a monumental beacon of ugliness and impracticality. It's gargantuan nature removed any possibility of getting lost on the way there, unless you happened to beridiculously directionally challenged, much like a certain green-head.

I crouched right in front of the gates, a sugar filled riceball carefully held within my hand. A gust of wind blew past, sending my scarf flapping along with it. I felt appropriately dramatized, right up to the point where my scarf slapped me in the face.

Apparently Captain Morgan had not seen fit to include any night security, and from what I could briefly recall from the manga, neither did he have any in the day. Looking at it from a different angle, I could understand why- there was unlikely to be anyone on this island to have the guts to consider trespassing.

Pity he didn't factor people like Luffy and I into account.

I scaled up the walls with relative ease, landing on top in a defensive crouch despite the noticeable lack of attackers. James Bond's theme began playing in my head.

Tonight, what little light from the moon had been blotted out by the bountiful clouds. Barely anything could be seen, but to me, the darkness was not an enemy, but a friend. A ninja dwells within the shadows. Night is his domain. Under the covers of the darkness, I sprinted on the walls, my footsteps inaudible, feeling like a total badass.

It came to my attention that my new body's eyes were exceptionally hypersensitive to the light, much more so than my previous body. Before, I was still able to stare at the morning sky as long as the sun was hidden behind clouds, but now I could barely do so without my eyes burning up and watering. On the other hand, I now had insanely powerful vision, as long as it wasn't bright. And that was what allowed me to bounce around in the dark without a single hitch and effortlessly spot Zoro's ludicrously green hair.

I leapt from the wall, tempted to do a barrel roll but was unsure if I would fail epically and land flat on my face- right in front of Zoro, so I settled for an ordinary landing. I glanced up.

There he was, in all his sexiness, firm musculature and green-headed glory. A fictional character brought to life. Roronoa Zoro.

I cautiously approached from the right side. Zoro's eyes were closed, but I didn't dare assume that he was sleeping. You know what they say about completely hardass characters: They do not sleep, they merely rest. On a closer look, I could see multiple bruises on his body that he probably had Helmeppo - that son of a bitch- to thank for.

I stood right in front of him, casually admiring the eye candy while patiently waiting for him to open his eyes. He didn't seem to have noticed my approach, which once again reminded me of how high-spec Ai's body was. Or maybe it was thanks to the skills I unlawfully inherited? Regardless, I should be able to use this to my advantage in future battles. Compared to monsters on Luffy and Zoro's level, I had no chance in hell of keeping up with them unless I fought dirty, quick and shamelessly.

A minute or so passed by. During that interval, I messed around, blatantly admiring him in a no doubt inappropriate manner and coming up with ridiculous theories about the relation between his hair and his horrendous sense of direction, generally acting like the lunatic I was. Zoro's eyes remained closed. He didn't appear to be waking up anytime soon.

Saying something should do the trick. A devious grin stretched across my face and I leaned foward.

"Ciao, Roronoa," I hissed with glee, right into his ear. His eyes shot open wide and he flinched away from me, struggling to get away but was held restrained by the ropes, shock evident on his face. I pushed down the urge to snicker, but was unable to stop my lips from curving up into a mocking smile. Never before was I so glad that Ai's body came pre-ordered with a mask, averting what would be my intermittent death via sword in the near future. Judging from his heated glare though, he could probably tell that I was giggling over his startled reaction.

Curiously, his glare abated slightly to give way to slight intrigue. "You... You are that guy who almost fell off the roof," He noted, voice raspy. I glowered. Now, that wasn't one of my best moments, and definitely not how I wanted to be remembered by him. I would very much prefer 'Coolest ninja alive.

Taking my stony silence as confirmation, he groused, "What are you doing here? The heck do you want?"

"For the record, that stumble was entirely justified," I informed him sulkily, choosing to disregard his inquiry. Zoro remained unimpressed. "I was dehydrated, injured, burning alive under the sun and dizzy from the heat."

"Wear less clothing then, idiot," He snipped back. "You didn't answer my question. What the heck are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

I deigned not to speak, and raised the rice ball up in lieu of a response. If I hadn't been paying attention, I would have missed the hunger that flashed across his face for a bare millisecond, swiftly covered up with a death stare.

"I don't want it. Now get lost-"

"The little girl you herded away like some mama hen made it for you, so just eat it," I cut off. He jerked away, disbelief almost palpable, but chose to intensify his glare. If I were a lesser man, I would have pissed myself, but I was an equally stubborn fucker on the same level as him, whose stubbornness can only be out done by those that carry the will of fucking D. Our fierce, smouldering gazes met in an incredible clash of willpower. I could have sworn that there were sparks for a moment there- dismissed as a product of my overactive imagination.

"Do I look like I give a shit? Leave-"

"Don't reject her sincerity, asshat," I shoved the rice ball in his face. He growled. Cute.

"I said that I-" Zoro made yet another stubborn attempt to chase me off. I was mildly touched by the good will hidden behind his scathing words, but it got exasperating real quick.

"EAT." I smashed the rice ball into his open mouth, and quickly retracted my hand in fear of losing any vital body parts - my fingers. Strike one!

Zoro looked like he wanted to rip out my spleen out for about one second, which would have been much more intimidating had his face not been covered by rice grains. He chewed with great difficulty, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead. From the painful expression he was making, I could surmise that the riceballs were really that unappetizing. Nonetheless, he ate it all up.

As soon as he finished, I whipped out a bottle of water from where it was hooked to my belt. This time he didn't protest. Perhaps the rice ball was honestly that repugnant that he would compliantly accept the water, or he was giving in to my stubborn refusal to stop bugging him. I would like to think that it was the latter.

Having accomplished what I came here for, I resisted the urge to flip him off, proceeded to make my epic departure and fade away into the shadows, hopefully making a better impression then 'That Rooftop Guy that Almost Fell Off'. Zoro's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Hey... Tell the kid that the food was delicious..." He rasped. Hm? My lips involuntarily twitched up.

...Oh Zoro. You're just a big softie on the inside, aren't you?

* * *

The next few days was, in summary, a test of patience. Mornings were generally wasted on avoiding the infernal rays of the accursed sun, and nights spent on some productive observation (stalking) of Zoro or Helmeppo's collective goons. On the whole, I readjusted to my living status again while waiting for Luffy's arrival. Ai's memories and ingrained reflexes allowed me to easily adapt to the differences in height and movements, thus there wasn't much of an issue when it came to moving around or using his weapons, I just needed to practice often. Having a male body, oh the other hand...

Lets just say I got some first hand experience and leave it at that... and that just sounded wrong didn't it?

Beyond that, I didn't have any problems with being a dude. I am of the opinion that we are all living creatures who inhabit this world. Male, female, genderless, transgendered, plant, alien, it doesn't matter... Going off point.

What troubled me was the memories that evidently had nothing else better to do than to bombard me on an average rate of twice per day. They always managed to catch me off guard and in the most inconvenient situations; for instance, when I happened to be dashing across the rooftops, messing around with Ai's vast collection of weaponary, or even taking a shit. It's a miracle I have not outright stumbled over the edge of the roofs or maimed my own finger yet.

As there was nothing I could do to circumvent the memory problem, I did the only thing I could do in my situation: try my hardest to ignore it.

Judging from how his memories were showing up even in my dreams (giving rise to sleepless nights spent staring creepily at Zoro with two bloodshot eyes), they didn't like to be disregarded. Well, screw them too.

Anyway, the next nine days passed by at a snail's crawling pace. Luffy still had not arrived. Like I had previously mentioned, time spent here was a test on my god damned patience. Even amusing myself by trolling the marines and town people got pretty old fast. By the end of it all, I was ready to murder someone just for mental stimulation, preferably Helmeppo.

 _Now, wasn't that a nice thought?_

My fingers twitched involuntarily.

-Fuck. I slapped myself in the face. No murdering of any living human beings for now. No maiming either. Not even the tiniest of cuts. Not to mention that if I even dared to lay a single hand on Morgan's pansy ass son, I would probably have the whole marine force of this town bearing down on my arse, and I wasn't so sure that I could take them all head on along with Captain 'Watch Me Stroke My Axe' Morgan.

...Still, I could probably get away with a little bit of trolling, right? A banana peel here, a bucket of water there...

...I reintroduced my face to my palm. This place was driving to the edge of my sanity. The longer I stayed, the more my thoughts frayed, and the higher the chance of me having a boredom and Ai's memory induced psychotic break.

LUFFY, WHERE ART THOU?! HURRY AND RETRIEVE THE MARIMO SO I CAN SUBTLY INSERT MYSELF INTO YE CREW BEFORE I LOSE MY MIND TO MY OWN FUCKING MIND!

I stood at the edge of the docks, facing the ocean, arms wide open and head tilted up at just the right angle to express my grievances. A gust of wind blew by, carrying with it the calls of seagulls. An ocean wave came crashing down at just the right moment, sending a spray of water right in my face.

...Holy shit, was that sparkles?

I quickly withdrew from my stance, glancing around with incredulity. The seagulls ceased their squawks, and the waves died down to a reasonable level. A random fisherman shuffled passed, glancing at me with a look that told me he strongly doubted my mental faculties. I disregarded him with the grace of someone who had been on the receiving end of such a look one too many times.

No sparkles. Hmm. I resumed my position.

The wind miraculously picked speed again, and the ocean waves began surging forward for no apparent reason. Sparkles shimmered into existence, breaking all the laws of reality.

What.

Oh, right, I was in One Piece. An anime. Which meant that physics were generally screwed to hell.

...Since I apparently qualify as an actual ninja now, does this mean that I can become one with the darkness now?

I dashed towards the nearest shadow, and began my overt attempts at physically melding with it.

In the middle of my fruitless endeavours to unite with the darkness, a boat rocked across the ocean, still a tiny dot across the vast expanse of water, but growing larger as the seconds ticked pass.

I froze.

Was that boat what I think it was...?

I squinted at the vessel, trying to discern any recognizable people. Unfortunately, Ai's supernatural vision did not seem to function in the presence of light. All I succeeded in getting was a headache.

A few agonizing minutes passed by. I flailed about wildly, anticipation making my nerves jittery. As the boat drew closer, I could faintly perceive a spot of shocking pink hair, and a figure dressed in red and blue hopping up and down madly. The boat they were on rocked about precariously under his hyperactivity. My eyes were drawn to the signature straw hat resting upon his head.

I breathed in sharply. A grin slowly crept across my face.

There could only be one person with that call sign.

Monkey D. Luffy.

...Oh, and Coby was there too, wasn't he?

Meh.

Fucking finally. I was getting tired of staying in this boring shithole. Don't get me wrong, Shell Town is a pretty nice place - ignoring the ugliness incarnate that is the marine base- but I doubt I would survive living here for the rest of my days- it reminded me of History with Professor Zennor again: basically hell. The monotony and repetition would only feed the insanity lurking deep within the dark recessions of my mind. Ai didn't like keeping to one place for a long period of time, nor was he the type to settle down. Similarly, I hated being grounded and busted out of my gilded cage the moment I had my first taste of freedom, making sure to leave a metaphorical shoe imprint on my father's face as I did, because fuck that arseface.

 _Now, Mother, on the other hand, was similar to me. Every so often, she would leave the village to stretch her wings. She'd never told we where she went, but she would always come back and I was content with the knowledge that she would always return to me. There are times where I would catch her gazing into the distance, eyes glinting with nostalgia, and sometimes, a burning hunger. I could see that she longed to set sail into the horizon, like she did in the stories she told of her past, but she would always turn away from the beauty of the ocean and usher me back into the house with a smile. I could tell that I was holding her back. If she had decided to sail once more and leave the village behind, we would be dead, I would be dead, but she would be alive-_

-but I didn't fucking know my mother and she sure as hell wasn't a sailor so what the hell-

 **Fuck.**

Right.

 _Fucking Ai_.

I dragged a hand through my hair. It probably resembled a bird's nest that had been through a storm and a brief clip with a tornado. Yearning for a _past long lost_ that didn't even belong to me echoed through my chest along with the beat of my heart. Phantom _weariness settled in my bones._

 _I missed Moth-_ That woman isn't my fucking mother. I am _not_ Ai. **I need no mother.**

Looking at it from a rational angle, I knew that we barely shared any relations with each other beyond the body I was currently hijacking. Yet...

Rational thinking did not change how I feel about her. Rational thinking didn't stop Ai's memories from surfacing and messing with my head. I wanted to stop feeling this way. It was foreign and unneeded; I couldn't quite understand it or fully express it but _it ached-_

"Hey!" A grinning face loomed right in front of me, invading my much cherished personal space. "You look funny! Are you a swordsman too?"

- _Initiate evasive maneuvers!_ Instincts demanded that I drop down and dodge left. A second later, I was a good ten feet away from my would be assailant, daggers drawn and ready for blood. I glanced up.

Luffy's dumb smile stared back at me. He bounced back and forth on his heels.

Ah.

Holy fuck.

Did I almost go all Ninja on Luffy and attacked him?

Was I so deep into my existential crisis that I didn't even notice his approach?

 _WAS THE UNIVERSE CONSPIRING AGAINST ME?!_

Calm.

I withdrew from my stance, sheathing my daggers. What did he ask me again? Something about me being a swordsman?

"I am... Not?" I replied hesitantly. Ai's experience with swords did not extend beyond wildly swinging it around and hoping it hits something. And me? ...Does messing around with the allegedly ancestral sword hanging somewhere in my father's mansion count as experience?

Luffy seemed to deflate a little, but true to his nature, nothing could keep him down for long. He perked up again. "You were really fast though! Are you sure you aren't a swordsman?" He scooted behind me to stare at my daggers, which were positioned fairly close to my posterior. I shuffled around to face him before some random passerby gets the wrong idea. "See, you have swords. So you must be a swordsman!"

Ah. This must be the famed 'Luffy Logic'.

...Also, they are daggers. Not swords. I reintroduced my palm to my face.

"Luffy!" A voice called out. We turned in synchronization towards the speaker, who was none other than Coby. "Don't just jump from the boat like that! You could have fallen into the sea!"

"Shishishishi. It's alright because I stretched across!" Luffy laughed. Coby twitched with mild exasperation. I watched the play of emotions flash across his face - worry, _'I'm so fucking done with life'_ and resignation.

Fascinating.

Seconds passed between us. Coby slowly wilted under my steady stare.

Man, he was one wimpy kid before becoming marine, wasn't he? Or was it me who was just that intimidating?

I glanced away, choosing to disregard the sigh of relief he gave off, focusing on Luffy once more.

Time for How to Join the Strawhats 101: Gain Luffy's attention. Make yourself so goddamn interesting he just can't leave you the hell alone until you give in to his constant pestering and invitations to become one of his hapless crewmates.

"I am no swordsman," I informed him, using the same lifeless monotone Ai typically spoke with to address him, making sure to pause dramatically. "I'm a ninja."

The correct term here was probably 'Assassin' but meh.

All was silent. Like a dam, the waters burst forth.

"REALLY?" He literally vibrated with enthusiasm and childish excitement. "THAT'S AWESOME!"

Coby, on the other hand, did not appear to share the same exuberance about my status as a ninja. He seemed to waver between slight skepticism and fear.

I fought the compulsion to flip him off.

"Well then, not that this hasn't been an absolutely vivifying conversation," I drawled with feigned indifference, "But I really must be going."

Luffy blinked. "Ah! Wait-"

I dashed away, scaling up a wall and vaulting over the roof. It may be rude of me to leave them hanging like this, but I must preserve my identity as the mysterious masked ninja.

Absently, I rubbed my chest.

Strange. The hollow ache from before was gone.

* * *

"Where did he go?" Luffy pouted. He wasn't done speaking yet. "Why did he have to leave so fast?"

"Lu-Luffy, he looks dangerous. It's a good thing that he left us alone-" Coby stuttered.

"I wanted to ask him to join my crew!"

"-and we shouldn't bother him either... Wait, what?"

* * *

A/N: Once again, a warning: Posting schedule will never be regular. Mostly because I'll be too busy juggling life and dealing with writers block.


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